


Alive

by pippen2112



Series: Dammit Barton Series [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coping, Coulson Lives, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson is alive.  Fury neglected to tell his assets that.</p>
<p>Can be read as a stand-alone work or as part of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grimmalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmalie/gifts).



> I know I should be working on Avenger's Cat, but Grimmalie put the idea into my head and deserves a reward for all the edits she's done over the past few days. 
> 
> In the Dammit Barton verse, this story takes place first chronologically but that really makes almost no difference because I don't like telling stories in order.

Clint wishes he was anywhere but the Helicarrier’s briefing room.  Though it’s been months since the attack he led (but doesn’t remember), the place still makes his bones ache with grief and his stomach twist with guilt.  He’s been through S.H.I.E.L.D. mandated counseling sessions and cleared for active duty, but he’s far from peak condition.  Hell, the only way Clint could b e worse is if he were still suffering from the thrall.  He hasn’t been the same since Fury and Natasha broke the news to him, since he learned to master his poker face, since his heart dropped into his bowels and refused to return to his chest.

 

Fury, their omnipotent commander, rambles on about the importance of their upcoming mission, but honestly Clint doesn’t give a flying fuck about “international incidents” or “plausible deniability.”  That’s not how he operates.  S.H.I.E.L.D. gives him a mark, he takes them out.  That’s the way it worked until the Avenger’s Initiative came along, and he has no business there.  He’s not a hero.  He’s not particularly brave, or strong, or remarkable.  He’s Clint Barton.  He’s a sniper.  He’s got no grand delusions about what and what he is.

 

Brutal honesty is the only way that arrangement works.

 

Stark looks particularly bored throughout Fury’s monologue.  Rogers, ever the good soldier, pays diligent attention but he’s slumped casually in his chair.  Thor plays with his hammer (no innuendo intended) and Banner’s expression is an odd mix of dazed confusion and feigned interest.  Only Natasha looks truly attentive, but nothing about the term “face value” applies to her.  All in all, Clint anticipates that he’ll doze off sometime between now and when they break for lunch.

 

So when Coulson strolls in a half-hour later wearing his customary navy-suit-and-gray-tie Tuesday ensemble with only a sling on his left arm to indicate that he was pronounced dead and buried 97 days prior, Clint doesn’t immediately know how to react.

 

He quickly scans across the others, wondering if he’s just imagining his former handler standing there (because frankly, it wouldn’t be a first).  Stark and Banner give quick nods, Rogers smiles and shakes Coulson’s hand, and Thor pats Coulson a little too firmly on the shoulder.

 

Clint freezes in his seat, arms half-extended over his head in an aborted stretch.  But…Coulson’s dead.  He saw the body after hours in the morgue.  He attended the open-casket funeral.  He watched them clean out his handler’s office.  How is Coulson standing there?  How?  It’s not possible.

 

He snaps back to the present just in time to see Natasha leap across the conference table and slam into Fury at full force.  The other Avengers jump into action, pulling Natasha away from their commander.  Her face is twisted in red rage, and she fights hard against Thor when he pins her arms to her sides.  He can see the others starting to argue in his periphery, but Clint focuses on Coulson who stands unmoving, his questioning gaze fixed on Clint.

 

“Romanov, what the hell was that?”

 

“Coulson’s fucking alive?”

 

“Yes.  He’s been in medical custody recovering from his injury.”

 

“And you decided to keep us in the dark?”

 

For half a second, Coulson’s eyes dart toward the arguing group, briefly coloring with raw emotion.  Clint can name it in an instant, but he’s never seen it flit across Coulson’s face: fury.

 

“Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

 

“It was a command decision, Stark.  Agent Coulson’s condition was too unstable to announce.  He flat-lined twice and was in a coma for three weeks.”

 

“But you waited three months to let his assets know he was alive?”

 

Clint barely registers the conversation.  His perception is narrowed to the dry-witted, resident-badass, apparently-undead suit-clad agent standing across the room from him, to the narrowed set of his stormy eyes.  He rises silently amidst the din of the argument.  He takes slow, measured strides and stops in front of Coulson.  He barely keeps his poker face intact as he looks his handler in the eye.

 

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around Phil and squeezes him tightly, much tighter than is strictly warranted, but that’s just another flying fuck Clint isn’t giving.

 

“Dammit Barton,” Phil wheezes.  “Punctured a lung, remember?”

 

Clint pulls away quickly, his heartbeat unsteady and his breaths coming in uneven puffs.  He bites the inside of his cheek and digs his nails into his palms.  Ten more seconds, and then he can run for the nearest crawlspace.

 

“Good to have you back, sir.”

 

 His voice hitches in his throat halfway through his statement.  No one mentions it.

 

The anger fades quickly from Coulson’s face (though Natasha was probably the only one to see it).  A faint smile forms at the corners of Coulson’s mouth and eyes. 

 

“It’s good to be back.”

 

Clint nods briefly before he excuses himself from the room.  He makes it to his nest in record time.

 

No one, not even Natasha, comes looking for him for the next 72 hours.  Clint texts his partner sometime the next morning.

 

_Overreact much? – CB_

 

_Someone has to cover your ass – NR_

 

It’s the closest either of them come to saying “thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! Comments give me more incentive to write!


End file.
